I’d previously read McCarthy’s The Road, which I also really enjoyed, and which I saw as this kind of perfectly gaunt and streamlined vision/story that ended with a real banger of a paragraph that stayed with me for days.

Blood Meridian, in contrast, is an entire novel length “banger of a paragraph,” that is, the whole thing reads like some kind of insane Biblical-language fever dream, ultra-graphic and shocking violence, ultra-beautiful and terrifying descriptions of nature, and ultra-dense and hell-and-brimstone philosophical dialogue between extremely interesting characters. I would highly, highly recommend it, and, if that’s not enough, Harold Bloom also totally digs it, calling it the best American novel ever, or something. Super-worth a read.

Besides reading this guy, I’ve been very into looking at photos these past few weeks, especially some new joints from: